


Footsteps of Blood and a Vicious Smile

by Ciel_Leon



Series: Doorways to the Velvet Room [3]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: 0 out of 10 would not visit again, Akira just wants to go home, Akira raised by Yakuza for a couple of years, Akira's Mom, Akira's Mom is named Miyako, Akira's father is named Ryou, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Am I having fun? Yes!, Angry!Akira, Canon derailment, Cussing, Do I know how to tag?, Enter: Shadows!, Gen, Gymnast Akira, Gymnastics, He came from a Family of Assassins, In the shape of knights, Laughing at video game mechanics, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Murder, Mild descriptions of violence, Miyako is a Hitwoman, Miyako is from a Yakuza Family, No Beta, Sarcastic Akira, See also: Horrible castle decor, Slight timeline divergence, Sporadic Updates, We Die Like Men, and, cause thats a thing, drumroll please!:, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 16:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciel_Leon/pseuds/Ciel_Leon
Summary: The Kurusu family is nowhere as normal as it seems.  And Ruin or not, Akira is going utterly destroy the man who had him arrested under false charges.  It may take a while, but well, since he’s on his own this time, he might as well nab as many allies as possible.





	1. Chapter 1

Akira wants to laugh, the irony of everything is the only thing on his mind right now.

A sardonic chuckle escapes him before he manages to stifle it behind clenched teeth as a seemingly relentless wave of pure rage crashes down on him.

He clenches his hands, hidden underneath the table he's sitting behind. The voices around him are distant, his surroundings out of focus as he concentrates all his will power on not snarling aloud.

He feels a hand settle onto his shoulder moments later, and his first thought is that he wants to rip it off and beat its owner to death with it in front of their audience.

Akira wouldn't regret it.  Not when he's being subjected to such a farce and holds the knowledge that it was his fucking morals (which he has so few of) that got him caught.

The irony of it all leaves his blood boiling and a bark of laughter strangled in his throat.

The hand on his shoulder tugs on him lightly, a silent indicator to stand and Akira forces himself to ignore the noise of the self-righteous people speaking around him, and the sound of everyone in one room attempting to leave at once.

Akira raises his head and finds himself staring at the raised desk that sits behind another small row of tables.

He locks eyes with the man behind the desk, who is clearing it off-  and the smile he gives him is full of every ounce of rage in his body.

Akira finally turns away, letting a blank mask settle against his face- following quietly uttered instructions as he's led from the courtroom.

These people- they know nothing.  They believe that they're helping to better their society, that they are teaching him some kind of lesson, that they know exactly what type of person he is.

His mother was right after-all, wasting your time on strangers does nothing but take things from you, and kindness is a weapon- one you aim at people to get what you want, or something others take advantage of.  The thought also brings to mind the last thing his father told him before the man was killed almost a decade ago,  _ “Use every weapon in your armory- your guns and knives, your laughter and your tears- if you don't have a weapon on-hand, influence those around you.  Akira, do anything you have to- just make sure you survive.” _

His mother approaches him the moment he steps out if the courthouse, her expression closed off, and she says nothing as she gently pulls him down into a hug.

Akira takes that moment to recenter himself, focusing on the silk-like feel of her long black hair, the scent of jasmine that constantly lingers around her, and the sound of her steady heartbeat.

After a few minutes, they both pull away, and she guides him to her car, quietly speaking to the defense attorney that had guided Akira outside.  She bids the attorney farewell before she unlocks the vehicle and they clamber inside.

They're seated, seatbelts on and car running before she refocuses her attention on Akira.

“Mother-”

“No.  None of that now Akira.  It's done, and from what you told me of what actually happened, you did nothing wrong my son.  You just ended up facing off against a man that is no more than the scum of the Earth.

If anyone is in the wrong it's him.  Akira, you did the right thing, and I am so proud of you.  So goddamn proud.”

She reaches for him once more, the delicate looking fingers of her right hand curling lovingly into his hair.

Akira can't help the shaky exhale that escapes him even as he leans into her touch.  Her smile is soft, her copper brown eyes full of affection for several moments before they turn vicious.

“I know I told you after our years abroad that we had to leave everything behind, to live normal lives, but this changes things.  And you know as well as I do what our family mottos are. I think it's time we return to how we used to be.”

Akira couldn't help the smirk that spread across his mouth.  After-all, it wasn't everyday his mother gave him blanket permission to tear apart an enemy.

She laughed quietly, gently running her fingers through his hair, “Just be careful my son, in this, I'm afraid I'll be unable to help you.”

Akira smiled slightly, “Thank you mother.”

He had a year.  He had his training, his anger, his motive and his target.

_ Use every avenue available to you in order to survive, but give no mercy to those who would abuse it. _

_ Justice can fail where revenge can succeed, be the karma your enemies deserve. _

* * *

Miyako and Ryou Kurusu’s love for each other had been unprecedented and many of their friends and family members hadn’t approved of their marriage.

With both of their backgrounds, it made sense.  Miyako had been born in raised in Japan, her own parents had been within the higher ranks of a yakuza family, and she had spent most of her time surrounded by adopted aunts and uncles who hadn't hesitated to teach her deadly martial arts, knife- wielding or even how to use guns once she was old enough or showed the slightest interest in learning something.

Miyako had gone to culinary school after graduating high school, and she had graduated with honors.  However, she discovered that she felt more at home with knives in her hands and an enemy to eliminate rather than spending hours behind a kitchen stove, cooking for strangers.

Instead of forcing herself into being normal, she had gone to her parents and her adopted family with the hope that they would be able to aid her, and they had.

They taught her the ins and outs of becoming a hitwoman, and in doing so, they had given her a way to do what she loved while also helping her family.

In turn, her career had also led her to finding and falling in love with Ryou. Her husband, while he had been born in Tokyo, had been raised all over Europe, and been trained as an assassin by his aunt and uncle after his parents had been killed.

Ryou had been sent after Miyako’s own mother- an assassination that Miyako herself had thwarted.  It had also led to her chasing Ryou down, in order to find out who wanted her parents dead.

It had been a game of cat and mouse that lasted over two years, during which they had encountered each other over and over again.

They had fallen in love, and knowing that both of their families wouldn't approve, they had eloped.  Miyako only returned home with her husband in tow four years later, pregnant and eager to see her family again.

Both of them had been ecstatic when Akira had been born, but their happiness hadn't lasted.  Ryou’s family had despised his relationship with Miyako, and when Akira was eight, they had put out a contract on their entire family.  

Ryou had refused to let anything happen to his wife and child, and Miyako hadn't known until too late that her family had been threatened.  Miyako had been out of the house, shopping, while Ryou watched an eight-year-old Akira when the hitman had come. Akira had been the only one alive when she had returned only an hour later.

Miyako had not hesitated to call upon her Family, darkly furious with only the memory of her son- small, pale hands shaking and covered in blood pressed over the wound that had killed his own father, panicked, gasping, breaths and wild eyes- her son, who had been innocent in all things aging before his time.  She’d seen it, in that brief instant before her reality solidified in her mind- Miyako witnessed that aftermath of Akira’s shattered childhood.

And even if she could forgive the death of her husband (she couldnt- Ryous death was- she had lost the  _ love of her life _ ), Miyako could never forgive these bastards from stealing Akira's childhood.

Never.

She had wanted nothing more then, to stay with her son, to be there for him every second of every minute- but Ryou’s former family would never allow them any peace.  It had taken everything in her- every centimeter of willpower and every ounce of determination to leave her son behind, to reach out to her Family and ask for protection for her son.

And for the first time since her marriage to Ryou, her Family had stepped forward, without hesitation to support her and Akira.  (And maybe, if it hadnt taken Ryou’s death for them to reach out for her, maybe she would have been able to forgive them, but the world had made her suspicious and she was, as the saying went, “once bitten, twice as shy”).

Miyako had gone after her husband's former family- she had eradicated every last one of them for what they had done before returning home for her son.

It had been two and a half years at that point, her son on the verge of turning eleven with only infrequent phone calls on secure phones as their only form of communication.

That was why, when she came home and discovered that the Yakuza Akira had been staying with had taken it upon themselves to train him without her knowledge, she had been incensed.  It was logical in a way, for the Family to have done it, because Akira needed to be able to defend himself- but it had also been one more thing that had been taken from her. Sure, he wasn't completely trained- but Miyako would never have that memory of the first punch Akira would throw, or the first knife he would hold- nothing like that.

She could help him advance and master his skills, but she hadn't been able to be there for the first, true, meaningful steps in his training.

At the same time, she came to realize that she wasn't ready to return to Japan yet.  Memories of happier days with her husband at her side lingered like clouds in the sky.

It was part of the reason they'd moved to America- it let Miyako escape her memories of her husband until she had the time and peace to come to terms with Ryous death, and it also gave Akira the chance to escape from the whispers of his father's murder and a chance to grow.  And while it may not have been the perfect solution, it had helped- on the surface, they had become a normal American family for three years- a single mom and her son. Akira- who had loved gymnastics since he was four- had been able to excel in the sport, and Miyako had been able to watch and support him through it as well as his school work.  At their suburban home, with their American neighbors, Miyako had hesitated at first, but continued her son’s training. After three years, Akira had wanted to come back. He had wanted to return home, to see his former teachers and finally be able to move past his father's death. Miyako had given in, she was tired of America herself, and she would not deny her son this chance to return to the place he viewed as his homeland.

Her only condition had been that they actually be normal- that the training stopped, and they went through their lives as civilians unless it was an emergency, and Akira had agreed- three years with hidden training and no reason for him to use it made it seem easy, and besides- his mother hadn't said he couldn't keep in shape- she had even told him he could keep doing gymnastics if he wanted.  All in all, what Miyako had wanted hadn't been to forget their past, she had simply desired to be able to stop  _ pretending  _ they were normal, and instead, actually  _ be _ normal.

And the two of them had been.

They had been a normal family, a single mom and her son- just content to be together.

And since that  _ rat bastard _ had  _ sued her son _ when he had  _ fallen on his drunk ass _ after  _ attempting to sexually assault someone _ .  Well.  It was only fair that she let her son rain terror and hell upon the  _ heathen _ who thought they could throw around their power  _ without consequences _ .  

Even if he had to hunt said heathen down first.

Miyako hummed quietly as she put the vehicle into drive.  It looked like she had an old family friend to contact once they got home.


	2. Chapter 2

The first question that comes to mind when Akira steps foot into Soujiro Sakura’s café, is how in the world his parents knew a coffee shop owner of all things.

As far has he's aware, both his parents were tea people (his memory is a bit fuzzy in regards to his father, but Akira’s pretty sure he has a vague memory of his father drinking tea while reading a newspaper). Not to mention, his mom vaguely mentioned that his father was friends with the man, so his mother couldn't have met him in culinary school.  There's also only a slim chance that the man had something to do with the yakuza side of his family.

So yeah, Akira was a little confused.

And then the man had to make a comment about how Akira should have just kept his head down and minded his own business, and Akira couldn't help but think, “Ah.  So thats how its going to be.”

Akira eyes the attic he’s been given wearily.  Hostile at school and hostile at home. The teenager can feel that ball of spiteful anger burn in his chest for several moments before he lets out a tired hiss of aggravation.

He eyes the mess surrounding him for several moments in agitation before starting to sort through piles of junk, wiping various surfaces down as he goes.  When he gets to the bookshelf, he sacrifices a piece a floor to dusty tomes until each shelf is clean, following that, he wipes down each book before placing ones the thinks he’ll use on the shelves until only the bottom two are left clear.  With the books he couldn't fit on the shelf on the floor beside them, Akira gets up, stretches, and retrieves the box full of his stuff that his mother shipped over for him. The clothes, his own books and sketch book, as well as his phones charger claim those two shelves, and after a moment of confusion, Akira eyes the only item left in the box perplexed.

It's a leatherbound journal that he knows isn't his.  The material is well worn, and just by looking at it, he can tell it was frequently used.  Its spine is creased, he can see a couple of stains along the edges of the paper trapped inside, and some of those are even dog-eared.  The cover is also worn, so that the material is soft and pliable, and Akira can't help but carefully open it- a note on lined paper, scrawled with familiar handwriting nearly falls to the floor until Akira snatches it up.   
  
' _ Akira, _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Even though you're on your own Akira, i wanted to give you this.  This journal is one of your fathers belongings, and the one i believe will aid you the most.  He was only a year or so younger than you when he began writing it but it does contain knowledge that you can benefit from, in addition to its sentimental value.  I can only wish you the best in your endeavours until we see each other again, my son. _ _   
_ _   
_ __ Know that you are always loved, and that I will cherish you until the end of days and beyond, just as your father does.'   
  
Akira swallowed hard, closing his eyes briefly before reaching for his school bag, and gently tucking it between his notebooks.  There's no real safe place for it truthfully. Here, theres a chance Sakura- san will find it, in his school bag, there's the chance another student will find it.  Realistically though, if it's in his school bag, at least he can ensure he never goes anywhere without it.   
  
Taking another moment to gather himself, Akira returns to his task.  With his box clear, he now has a place to stuff the extra books in, and once that's done he works on the rest of the room, cleaning and dusting in equal measure until he thinks he's done.   
  
He can still hear people talking downstairs so with a shrug, he carefully covers all the clean furniture he's keeping with tarps and blankets before eyeing the ceiling beams determinedly.  If this room wasn't as horrendously taken care of, Akira wouldn't even contemplate doing this, but, well.   
  
The room is just that filthy.

  
With a grimace, Akira retrieves the desk chair, situating it under one of the beams and retrieves a couple of clean towels which he throws over his shoulders before he stands on it.

Akira jumps to catch the ceiling beam, making a face at what feels like an inch of dust between his fingers and the wood, before he easily heaves himself up and onto the beam.   
  
Akira knows he'll be covered in dust at this rate, but there's no point to cleaning everything if opening the window to let a breeze in will send all the filth up here onto his newly cleaned (with the exception of the floor and chair) room.   
  
Carefully, he gets to work, walking across the ceiling beams is simple in comparison to doing flips on a balance beam, and really, all Akira is doing is knocking this ocean of dust onto the floor so he can sweep it up once he's done.   
  
Of course, he's almost done when Sakura- san finally choses to make an appearance.   
  
"What in the world?!  What happened in here, and where is that kid?"   
  
Akira huffs quietly, the dust he unintentionally stirs up causing him to sneeze and Soujiro to jerk his head up like a startled cat.   
  
"Brat!  What in the hell do you think you're doing!  You'll fall and break your neck!"   
  
A snort escapes Akira before he can stop it.  The balancing beam is one of his favorite pieces of gymnastic equipment right after the spring floor, and Sakura- san is clearly exaggerating about breaking his neck from a fall this high.    
  
"Im fine." Akira answers belatedly, running the last towel he has over the surface of the beam he's on.   He's done more dangerous things than this while helping his mom clean the planter shelves and ceiling beams of their old house in America (now those ceiling beams were even thinner than a balancing beam- good practice for him though).   
  
Soujiro splutters even as Akira eyes the rest of the beams before concluding he's done and dropping the filthy fabric done to the floor.   
  
"Just get your ass down here would y-" and Akira’s already swinging himself down and landing lightly on his feet before his new 'guardian' even finishes speaking, leaving Sakura- san staring at him slightly dumbfounded before the older man coughs as though to cover up his reaction.   
  
"Right, just.  Don't do that again.  Got it?"   
  
Akira just rolls his eyes lazily behind his glasses while crossing his fingers behind his back, and giving a lazy nod in response.  If he doesnt get an outlet to practice his gymnastics, Akira won't hesitate to use those ceiling beams as a substitute. Not that Sakura- san needs to know that.   
  
"Seriously!  It's not like you're a monkey or something."   
  
The older man sighs before informing Akira that he'll be taking the teen to Shujin tomorrow to fill out paperwork and that Akira needs to finish cleaning and go take a bath before Soujiro can head home for the night.   
  
Akira doesn't really know what to think of Sakura- san right now, the man seemed gruff but was clearly worried about Akira falling.   
  
Shaking his head briefly (and masterfully ignoring the dust that flutters into the air), Akira hunts down a broom in order to dispose of the dust desert littered across the floor.

Room finally clean, Akira grabs his lounge clothes before stalking downstairs to figure out where he can bathe.   


* * *

  
Shujin Academy may be the only school that accepted him due to his new record, but Akira has a feeling that at least for these next few months, it will be like his own personal hell.   
  
The adults here clearly don't want anything to do with him, and there is no sympathy to be found, only hostility.  At least with Sakura- san he could tell the man didn't want him dead, with this group? He could probably end up choking to death in their midst and none of them (except maybe, MAYBE Kawakami) would try to help.  Really, if this school didn't want him here (and clearly the administration doesnt) why did they accept him here in the first place?   
  
Akira pointedly ignores Sakura- san's grumblings about a wasted morning, and pinches the bridge of his nose to ward off his incoming headache.   
  
When did people become so petty that they cared for little else but themselves?   
  
Akira huffed quietly.  It was amazing how small people could be- little concern for strangers, jumping to conclusions, making assumptions off of appearances-   
  
Really, Akira couldn't help but think that there would have been a lot less drama and spite if he was in the States right now.  Sure, there are assholes everywhere, and reputation meant a lot to some people but at least he would have had a chance not to be immediately blacklisted because of his records back in the US.   
  
Japan... not so much apparently.   
  
Either way, there was little he could do now except ignore the jeers and caustic remarks for a year.   
  
And gods, Akira had the feeling that between school, home, and his hunt, it would be an extremely long year.   
  
With a disgusted sigh, Akira idly turned on his phone while waiting for traffic to clear up so they could head home.   
  
He hadn't been on his phone much these past few days to be honest, yesterday he'd spent his time reading on the train, only bothering to use his phone to find Sakura- san's address (his mom had texted it to him) and then as an alarm for this morning.   
  
That was why he blinked in startled surprise when he found an unfamiliar app on his phone.  He considered it for a moment, trying to recall where he might have downloaded it from before swiftly deleting it.  Refocusing on his phone, Akira got on the internet and idly began scrolling through the news.   
  
He stilled, blinking at the image that now took up a third of his phones touch screen, a somewhat familiar face staring up at him.   
  
Well.   
  
If that was who he thought it was, his hunt just got a LOT easier.

* * *

  
Okay.

So it didn't get easier.

In fact, everything got infinitely more convoluted.

Akira frowned, glancing first at the scowling twin and then frowning one. Idly, he glanced behind them, towards a desk stationed in the middle of the room, attempting to peer through the shadows that hid the person sitting behind it.

A sharp clang of metal against metal had Akira jerking his gaze down to the baton wielding, irritated twin.

“Inmate!  Our Master wants to speak to you, so you better listen up!”   



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, take this, please, I wrote 1100 words of this chapter right after work today, on my phone in less than an hour and a half. Akira wouldnt shut up. XD
> 
> On a better note, this chapter picks up the pace, and also, canon gets derailed a bit further. Excuse me while I go cackle in a corner for a bit.

Okay, so.  Bizzare, foreboding dream sequences were now a part of his life apparently.  Akira really wanted to ask his subconscious for a refund, because really? Approaching _ruin?_ _Rehabilitation?_  Even if those dream characters were real, what the hell did he need rehabilitation for?  Learning how to be an unfeeling, selfish dick? Was that what he needed to learn about so he wouldn't have a repeat of Mr. “Im- Drunk- Off- My- Ass- and- Fell- on- Said- Ass- After- Trying- to- Get- Away- With- Sexual- Assault?”  If that was the case, Hook-Nose could take his “ _rehabilitation_ ” and shove it where the sun doesn't shine.

Akira frowned in annoyance as he began getting ready for school.  He really wasn't in the mood to think about the “Velvet Room”. He had breakfast to eat, a subway to catch, and an unfamiliar city to _not_ get lost in.

He had _no_ time to be attempting to scrutinise his weird dreams.

Especially not when encountering a creepy (teacher?) person, that offers a female student a lift to school, a loud blond that claims the (now confirmed) teacher is a piece of shit, and they somehow, magically, find themselves in Wonderland.

(Nooooo, Akira’s not bitter, no _not at all._ )

So yeah, freakishly weird castle that is (if blondie is to believed), where his new school should be.

(Akira wonders what he did in a past life to deserve this, did he kill a god or something?   _Seriously_ , what _is_ this _bullshit_?)

Akira would like to return the last year of his life please and thank you.  He wants a refund.

 

* * *

 

The castle is- well.

It’s a castle, large in size with foreboding armored knight/ statue things that also happen to have a backdrop of lurid pink and bright red accented with gaudy gold.  The stone floor is probably supposed to make the whole place intimidating, but between the colorful background and dull grey stone, all it is is a clashing mess of an eyesore.

On top of all this, if Ryuji is right, this is supposed to be their school.

Which it obviously is not.

Akira stares up at the gold chandelier hanging above them with a sense of dread.  This is all wrong- this isn't what the inside of Shujin Academy looks like, there isn't another student in sight, and even as Ryuji exclaims confusedly over their surroundings, Akira is sharply reminded of his dream from last night.

He believed it was just that- a dream (no matter how weird), but just looking at stone castle walls, red carpet and- well, that ugly ass portrait at the top of the stairs is even calling that into question.

“...Ryuji.  Ryuji, I think we should leave.”

It starts as a soft clinking noise- clink-clank and then louder clink- clank- and Akira feels a chill run through him.  He remembers that noise- the ringing sound of a knife dropped on stone after a training session that leaves him exhausted, covered in cuts and bruises, aching but angry at every failure but no energy left to stand and try again.  Metal on stone, two unyielding materials crashing together in a cacophony of noise that leaves goosebumps to rise as it rings through your ears.

Akira hisses softly- voice gone quiet even as the noise draws closer.

He snags a hold on Ryuji's blazer, “We need to go Ryuji!” he vehemently whispers, there's an urgency in his muscles now- this _thing_ whatever it is, sounds dangerous and he is _unarmed_ in an unfamiliar place with only a civilian for backup.

Everything in him is screeching in alarm and Ryuji merely blinks at him as though startled.

“What?”

Akira cringes at how loud the blond is- eyes widening and muscles going taunt as he hears those ominous footfalls pause before picking up speed.

“We need to leave _now!”_ Akira outright hisses even as he grabs his classmates arm and whirls around, determined to _yank_ his fellow student back the way they came if necessary.

Ryuji stumbles in shock before finally getting with the program and they make it through the main doors before Akira catches sight of the knight that stands at the opposite side of the drawbridge.

Akira’s throat tightens at the sight- the clink-clank noise from before is still growing louder in Akira's ears but with the crazy castle behind them (and possibly another guard) as well as the armor clad knight in front of him, Akira falters, hurriedly glancing around them even as Ryuji stumbles to a stop behind him.

Before Akira can curse aloud though, suddenly he’s the one being yanked sideways to run along the side of the castle wall.

He can hear the thunder of metallic footsteps behind them now- can't help but glance backwards and notice that there are two guards chasing them- one looks like the one from the drawbridge even, but he isn't positive where the second came from.

It isn't just their pursuit that Akira hears though- the guards are shouting, attempting to alert their fellows of intruders as well as snarling threats even as Akira hurriedly turns back to see where they're going.

It's a window, with several crates towered beneath it, and Akira can only feel a sense of incredulity before he and his classmate are scrambling upwards towards the window that can only lead back inside the castle.

Akira reaches the window first- reaching out for Ryuji's hand to help the blond climb up the rest of the way.

They drop back inside the castle in a rush, both of them tripping over the edge of the bookcase situated right beneath the window only to land in a tousled heap on the floor.

They both groan quietly in pain before scrambling to their feet, ready to bolt if their pursuers attempt to follow.

After a moment of silence where they both hardly breathe they hear muffled voices coming from outside.

“Hey, did you see where they went?”

“How would I see that, I was following your ass!”

“Rude.  Think the Intruders got back inside Lord Kamoshida's castle?”

“Well, where else could they go?  Hey do you think one of us should stay here incase they come back?”

“That’s a marvelous idea! And since you thought of it, why don’t you stand guard here instead of looming in that side room off the main hall!”

Akira blanches slightly as he hears the two guards devolve into bickering but as he and Ryuji stand there for several moments, it becomes clear that the two guards won't be budging anytime soon.

Dear god, all Akira had wanted to do today was go to school. He hadn't asked for any of this! Apparently a normal life was too much to ask for.

He sighs softly, shaking himself from his thoughts as he turns back to face Ryuji.  His fellow classmate is slightly pale- gaze focused on the wall that is the only thing between them and the guards.

Akira coughs quietly, causing Ryuji to jerk towards him.

“We need to find another way out Ryuji.” Akira mutters softly, warily eyeing the door across from them.

After a moment the blond nods hurriedly, “Yeah- right.  Got any ideas?” Ryuji asks stiltedly, unsure of their entire situation.

Akira gets it, he does- he is just as confused as the other but- “We can't just stay here and hope they'll leave- other guards might find us.”  Akira swallows harshly, “We're going to have to search the castle.”

Ryuji blanches, screwing his eyes shut momentarily before reopening them.  “Right- okay dude, but we do this together, deal?”

Akira feels a weak grin spread across his lips, even as he nods, “Deal.”

As one, they turn to face the door before them- and shoulder to shoulder, with those words spoken between them, it somehow feels less foreboding then it probably should have.

 

* * *

_  
I am thou, thou art I_

_Thou hast acquired a new vow_

 

_It shall become the wings of rebellion_

_That breaketh thy chains of captivity_

 

_With the birth of the Chariot persona_

_I have obtained the winds of blessing that_

_Shall lead to freedom and new power_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! More knights! Also, these two ridiculous boys fighting for survival.
> 
> And bonding! Cant forget the bonding!
> 
> This chapter is a bit of exposition but I'm hoping we'll reach the fun stuff soon!
> 
> Enjoy!

Akira doesn't like this, he doesn't like this at all.   
  
The castle is huge and its hallways twist and turn in a parody of maze-like corridors while deadly guards patrol throughout them, swords bared and shields at the ready.   
  
Somehow, entering the rooms is even worse- maybe it's the unpredictability of it all, the way they can open a door that has only an empty room beyond it, or win the wheel of misfortune and have to resort to hiding from the gaze of three guards at once.   
  
Some part of Akira’s brain- when it isn't gibbering in terror- mockingly notes that adding some cameras would make this whole fiasco seem like a game show, in "a deadly castle where a wrong step can lead to your death, how long could you last?" kind of way.  That sort of horrible show. Except this one doesn't even have a prize if you do escape- no money, no car, no fancy house- would your life be the prize maybe?   
  
Yeah, that's the sort of bullshit his brain regurgitates when he's stressed the fuck out and the only thing keeping the two of them alive is their luck (shitty as it was for them to end up in this situation in the first place) and their promise not to leave each other behind.   
  
It sounds ludicrous, but it's true.   
  
Akira's sharp eyes can keep track of every guard in front of them, as well as spot decent hiding spots, but Ryuji is the one to watch their backs, and whenever Akira hesitates or acts too quickly the blond is there to back him up or help fix a mistake.

(See also: the moment Akira's brain glitched and decided letting a door close on its own while a guard stood a mere 7 feet away from them was a great idea.

Thank god Ryuji had caught the damn door because Akira didn't believe he could pass on knowing that slamming a door was what had caused his death.)

Please forgive him, life currently hated him and Akira shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning.

They've been in the castle for hours when they run across something weird (or should he say weirder?  This whole place seems to originate from some sort of twisted fairytale and that's already bizarre). At the end of one a stretch of hallway, and just past a guard is a chest.  A treasure chest. Like they're in a goddamn videogame or some shit.

Behind him, Ryuji makes a confused noise when he catches sight of it as he peers around the corner of the bookcase they're both hidden behind.

And that's another strange thing about this place.  So long as they're hidden in shadows or ducked behind furniture or doorways, the knights don't seem to be able to see them- instead they just plod along their patrol routes, and so long as they're quick, both boys are able to skirt around the tin men.

It’s as ridiculous as it is horrifying.

And that says something because Akira spent part of his life growing up around Yakuza and he knows weird (he will never let his Aunt Chichiro near a pencil again by the way)- this whole situation has merrily skipped passed that word and pounced gleefully into being bizarre.

Akira idly watches the guard as it takes several steps towards the chest- pauses, then turns right back around, walking towards them.  When it's barely a foot away from them, it turns on its heel again and walking back towards the chest. Akira frowns slightly, watching the guard pace back and forth one more time before glancing behind them briefly.  There's a door right across from them, and Akira knows that if they time it right, they can make a break for the door and escape to the next room.

Except.

Except Akira is getting tired of running.  He may also want to know what is in that stupid chest.

Akira has never been good at running away, he would rather face his problems head on and demolish any obstacle in his path.  He understands how to wait to get the upper-hand, that doesn't faze him- it's this continuous running and hiding pattern that he and Ryuji have been forced to adapt since stepping into this place that's getting on his nerves.

Turning away from the sight of the guard, Akira catches Ryuji’s gaze.  Once he has Ryuji's attention, Akira glances back to the chest before meeting Ryuji's eyes again.  The blond frowns in confusion, following his line of sight before realization tints his expression followed by skepticism.  Akira pauses, glancing back towards the guard briefly to ensure it's facing away from them before he reaches around the corner, fingers quickly finding the spine of a book before they grasp it and quietly remove it from the shelf.  A second later, and Akira has a book in his hands and is facing a frowning blond.

Akira hefts the book in one hand, eyes meeting Ryuji's once more before he glances back at the guard.  The blond stares at the book for a second before casting his gaze back to the chest, and understanding slips across his face as his eyes find Akira's once more.

Being unable to communicate verbally on the off chance that the guards will hear them is a real hinderance, but Akira's questioning head tilt is met with Ryuji's affirmative nod seconds later.

Akira can’t help the smirk that spills across his face in response as he hefts the book once more.

Even now he can hear the clink-clank of metallic footsteps, can feel the adrenaline in his veins and the steady presence of Ryuji behind him.

Ryuji grins in his response, before glancing around the side of the bookcase.

He meets Akira's eyes once more, points at the book in Akira's hands before he mouths slowly and obviously ‘on three’.

Akira nods in response even as Ryuji holds up three fingers where Akira can see them.  Holding the book at the ready, Akira waits as Ryuji waits to start the countdown- and then one finger folds, followed by the next and just as Ryuji's last finger curls downwards, Akira hurls the book backwards down the hall as far as he can.

It lands almost all the way down the hallway with a thud before skidding the rest of the way to hit the far wall.

“What was that?!” The guard yells, and then there the now familiar sound of rapid metallic footsteps as the guard rushes towards the sound.

Ryuji lunges for the door after the knight has passed, grasping the door handle even as he sinks to his knees to make himself a smaller target. That’s all Akira sees of his partner as he sprints out from the bookshelf, hurtling towards the chest- for several seconds all he can hear is his own rapid heartbeat and footsteps before he's reaching forward to fling the chest open.  He doesn't pause to look inside- just grabs the chests contents before skidding to a stop in order to turn around.

The guard is at the far end of the corridor now, glancing around in confusion, but Akira has  _ no time _ to think about that.  Chest contents retrieved, Akira hurls himself towards the now open doorway that was across from their hiding spot.

He barely makes it- as he hurriedly crouches down behind the door frame, he can hear the guards footsteps start up again.

Their prize is heavy in his hand and his heart is stuck in his throat even as he watches the guard march past his and Ryuji's new hiding spot.

The guard walks right past them, seemingly oblivious to the now open doorway as well as the looted chest.

Akira watches in bewilderment as the guard returns to its pacing, almost as though nothing happened.  Mentally shaking himself, Akira turns away from the sight, gaze finding Ryuji's hidden form tucked behind the table situated just beyond the doorway they just entered through.

Ryuji isn't looking at him though, Akira realizes- the blond is looking at what's in his hands.  The realization causes Akira to look down himself, and his breath catches as finally sees what they stole.

It's a knife- somehow, he managed to grab it by the handle when he took it (miracle of miracles)- the guard and handle of the weapon are some type of dark metal that contrasts the light silver steel that makes up the blade. Both sides are sharply edged and come to a fatal point.  It's a deadly weapon that somehow feels perfect in his hand.

Something in his mind settles at the sight of it even as he takes a breath meets Ryuji's gaze.

They can _use_ _this_.

Akira knows the weight of a good knife- how to hold and throw one properly.  They won't be completely helpless now, and Akira thinks it might be time to start fighting back.


End file.
